


I don't have a choice (but I'd still choose you)

by darlingargents



Category: Karate Kid (Movies), Karate Kid (Movies) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Fights, First Time, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Mutual Non-Con, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Painful Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:02:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26907817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingargents/pseuds/darlingargents
Summary: Johnny knows what happens now.
Relationships: Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence
Comments: 4
Kudos: 75





	I don't have a choice (but I'd still choose you)

**Author's Note:**

> The basic concept of this fic is that Cobra Kai has a yearly elimination competition and the final two have to fuck, winner fucks loser. Daniel is with Cobra Kai for some reason. Don't look too closely at it. Underage means they're approximately in their late teens, somewhere during the timeline of the first movie. The non-con is that neither of them want to be doing this, and Kreese is watching and directing.
> 
> Title is a (slightly altered) lyric from Poison & Wine by The Civil Wars.

Johnny knows what happens now. 

He’s been dreading it since Daniel walked — limped, really — towards him, onto the other side of the floor. He never likes this, never has, but something about Daniel makes it so much worse. It makes his stomach sink and his hands prickle with something that might be guilt.

This is his fault. He’s the reason Daniel is here. And they’re the final two, because they always are, and he knows he’s going to win, because they’ve been fighting nonstop since seven in the morning and it’s inching past midnight. No medical care. No breaks. If you’re not fighting, you’re practicing punching. It’s mid-summer, sweltering hot, and Kreese turned off the AC. Their gis are all soaked through with sweat. The mats are covered in sticky sweat and a few patches of blood, some dried and some pooled, from earlier in the day. They don’t clean up until morning. Tradition.

The day always goes like this. It’s not just fighting skill. It’s proof that you have what it takes to make it as a Cobra. Endurance and unquestioning loyalty.

Every year that he’s done it, Johnny has won. He’s not as happy about that as he should be.

Daniel’s knee got kicked out two rounds ago. An illegal move in normal completion. Just another part of their arsenal at Cobra Kai. Johnny had been watching and hoping this would be it for Daniel. That it wouldn’t end with the two of them.

Of course it has. Of course.

Kreese gestures for them to bow. Johnny does. He can see Daniel out of the corner of his eye, and when they bow to each other, he keeps his eyes down. He doesn’t want to know what Daniel is thinking right now.

Daniel doesn’t know what’s going to happen after. Only the winners and losers do. But he has enough situational awareness to realize that it’s not going to be good.

Even as the winner, Johnny has never enjoyed it.

The fighting command rings out, and Johnny moves, his body deciding his moves before his mind does. When he’s this tired, it’s all autopilot.

It’s almost too easy. Daniel is exhausted. He’s sloppy. He nearly falls over. He does get one point, which is impressive in and of itself, but moments before Johnny’s final hit connects, he knows what’s going to happen.

Daniel hits the mat. Johnny won.

Time to claim his prize.

☽☾

The spectators are gone. They’re in the dojo still, the lights mostly off, only a few floodlights in the corner casting bright light and harsh shadows. The blinds are closed, streetlight barely leaking in. Kreese watches them from the sidelines, one hand propping up his chin on the arm of his chair, one resting against his knee. Casual disinterest.

Daniel looks like he wants to cry. Johnny can’t blame him. He’d probably assumed he could go home after that round.

“Strip,” Kreese says and Johnny begins. Daniel doesn’t move as Johnny undoes his shirt, takes it off, places it on the ground. Then his pants. When he gets to his underwear, he pauses, because Daniel hadn’t moved. He’s staring in horror at Kreese.

“Just do it,” Johnny whispers, and Daniel stares in disbelief. “It’ll be easier,” he says, and slowly, Daniel starts to undress. He stops at his underwear, like Johnny did. Johnny wonders, for a moment, if Daniel has figured it out yet, or if he still thinks they’re going to beat each other up.

Johnny pulls his underwear down. He doesn’t look anywhere but the mat. Not at Kreese, not at Daniel. He doesnt think he can stand the look in either of their eyes.

“What?” Daniel says. Too loud.

“Is there a problem?” Kreese asks, perfectly even.

“No, sensei,” Johnny says, placing his underwear aside. He’s not hard yet. Normally this would be doing it for him: the delicate lines of Daniel’s body, his big eyes and the bruises on his cheek making him look like a deer in the headlights. But there’s nothing hot about this situation.

Daniel is staying still as Johnny faces him, naked, positioned like they’re about to fight. Daniel looks torn between making a joke and throwing up.

“What?” Daniel asks again, this time more quietly. Directed at Johnny.

Johnny’s lips are numb as he says, “Just do it. Please.” His second year, the second-place didn’t want to do it. So Kreese chose another method to make him comply.

Johnny still has nightmares about the screaming, the crack of bone, the feeling of blood on his cock as he forced his way inside despite everything. Kreese’s hand on his back, his other hand around the victim’s throat as he coughed blood onto the mat.

Johnny can’t remember his face or his name. He’d moved away a few months later. No surprise there.

Despite everything, despite every reason Daniel has to hate him or assume he’s only trying to make things worse, Daniel listens to him. His hands shake as he leans down and hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his faded white boxers. He pulls them down his skinny legs and kicks them aside, not bothering to make it neat.

His cock is smaller than Johnny’s, but not by a lot. It’s soft and pink, surrounded by a light fuzz of hair that’s not quite filled in yet, and Johnny’s mouth waters just looking at it and if things were different, if they weren’t here, he’d want to put it in his mouth. Suck bruises into Daniel’s thighs, stick-thin but strong enough to snap his neck if he tried anything. Duck lower, down to his hole—

“You know what to do, Johnny,” Kreese says. Johnny’s stomach sinks.

He does know.

He steps closer to Daniel, and Daniel flinches back, but doesn’t step away. Johnny crosses the space between them and puts one hand on his shoulder. His stomach feels like it’s full of writhing worms.

He pushes down on Daniel’s shoulder. Daniel drops to his knees, staring up at him. The bruise on his cheek is bright in the harsh white floodlights that are their only illumination.

Johnny is seized, almost painfully hard, with the urge to kiss him. But that’s maybe the only thing that would be worse than refusing to do this at all.

“On your hands and knees,” Johnny says. He feels like he’s speaking through water, like the words coming out of his mouth aren’t even his. Daniel rocks back on his heels, and Johnny can’t stop looking at his cock, which seems to be waking up. Johnny feels like that only shows that Daniel doesn’t know what’s coming.

Until he looks at Daniel’s eyes. He’s been trying to avoid it, looking anywhere else to avoid the pain of facing what he has to do, but he’s caught on Daniel’s stupidly big and expressive eyes. He looks terrified, and sure of himself, and his jaw is set. He’s not going to back down or scream or run.

He gives Johnny a slight nod, and Johnny is almost dizzy with momentary relief. He won’t have to fight him down.

“Hands and knees,” Johnny says again, and Daniel adjusts himself onto his back, spreading his knees apart.

“I’m fine here,” Daniel says, and Johnny almost laughs. Trust fucking LaRusso to do things _his_ way.

“Fine by me,” Johnny says, and drops to his knees in front of Daniel, leaning over him. Daniel is almost smiling, and Johnny is almost laughing, and he’s sure Kreese won’t stand for this. It’s supposed to be miserable.

Well, as far as Johnny knows. Maybe Kreese is just a sick fuck who wants to watch some teenagers have sex. He isn’t saying a word, and when Johnny glances back at him, he’s still looking with projected disinterest, hands on his knees.

He notices Johnny’s gaze, and gives Johnny a look that chills his bones. Johnny looks back at Daniel, and reaches over to touch him.

Daniel jumps at the initial contact, Johnny’s hand on his inner thigh, sliding down. He needs to use his fingers first, which Johnny knows from experience. The first time, he didn’t, and he saw the smears of blood on his cock after, the amount of pain it caused. When he got home that night, he’d run up to his room and thrown up, just bile in the sink, all the nothing he’d eaten that day.

So. This time he’s going to go slower.

“Just breathe,” he whispers as he leans over Daniel, hoping that Kreese can’t hear. He starts with one finger, and slides it inside Daniel.

It’s so fucking tight. Johnny can feel his cock coming awake between his legs as he slides his finger in and out, as slowly as he can manage. Daniel isn’t quite hyperventilating, but he’s dropped his head back on the mat, staring at the roof, breathing shallowly. “Breathe,” Johnny says again. “It’ll hurt less.”

Daniel’s stomach muscles seize for a moment, and he tightens around Johnny’s finger briefly before relaxing. He closes his eyes and seems to make an effort to slow his breathing down, deep breaths that fill his belly.

The tightness around Johnny’s finger reduces a little, and he adds a second one, scissoring his fingers apart, stretching Daniel open. He watches his fingers and the pink rim of Daniel’s hole, the way Daniel’s cock is starting to fill out, flopping against his belly. Daniel’s breathing has slowed and evened out, and Johnny thinks it might be okay.

“Hurry up,” Kreese says, and Johnny’s stomach goes cold. He knows Daniel’s not ready, but he pushes in a third finger anyway, and Daniel makes a sound like he’s been punched in the gut, clenching around him. Johnny is ashamed of how much that sound goes straight to his cock.

Johnny speeds up his fingers, fucking Daniel before he even has his cock in him, and if he closes his eyes and forgets every fucked up thing about this situation, he can almost pretend Daniel wants it. That his panting and gasping is entirely desire, that he’s about to pull Johnny in and beg to be fucked.

It’s not true. It’s a fiction in his head, and in reality, the mats are starting to hurt his bare knees. He’s sore and sweaty and bloody from a day of fighting. Kreese is watching them both, and Daniel is spread out in front of him to make this twisted punishment easier on both of them, and in only a few moments, he’s going to fuck Daniel and it’s going to hurt him.

“Are you planning on sucking his cock and lighting some fucking candles, Lawrence? Put your dick in him.”

Right on time. Johnny’s stomach roils as he pulls out his fingers and positions his cock in front of Daniel’s hole. Daniel props himself up on his elbows, looking at him far more calmly than any of the others. Far more calm than Johnny would be in this situation.

“I’m sorry,” Johnny says under his breath, and pushes in.

Daniel’s eyes go wide, his mouth popping open in an O. He lets out a sound halfway between a gasp and a squeak, the kind of thing Daniel can imagine hearing in porn, when the girl realizes just how big the guy is. Except in porn that would be followed by her having a great time, and here it’s just more and more painful the deeper he goes. His fingers made the process a little easier, but he’s — well. He’s usually pretty happy about his level of endowment. Not right now.

As slowly as he thinks Kreese will allow, Johnny pushes in to Daniel until he’s buried to the hilt. For a moment he just breathes, adjusting his position, his hands flat on the mat on either side of Daniel’s shoulders. Daniel’s eyes have closed now and he’s breathing fast and deep, trying to work through the pain. One of his hands fumbles and grabs Johnny’s wrist, his nails digging into it, and Johnny lets him. It’s the least he can do.

“Hold on if you want,” Johnny says, and starts to fuck him.

Time blurs together. It’s so tight that Johnny’s afraid he’s going to lose circulation in his dick, until it’s not. Daniel’s nails dig into his wrists until he breaks the skin, making bloody half-moon crescents. He doesn’t make a single noise after that gasp when Johnny entered him, but as Johnny fucks into him faster and faster, he notices blood running from Daniel’s lip as he bites down. He won’t let Kreese hear him.

Johnny respects that more than he can ever tell him.

Eventually, when he thinks Daniel might finally be hurting a big less, he hears a shifting of Kreese’s chair, and Kreese says, “Get him off before you finish it.” Johnny shifts his weight onto one arm and reaches down with his other hand to jerk Daniel off. It’s a little awkward like this, and he tries to time his thrusts with his strokes on Daniel’s cock and not fall over.

Kreese didn’t ask him to do this the last couple of times. It’s different, having something else to focus on when he’s getting close; the way Daniel has released his bleeding lip to gasp, his eyes closed and heavy-lidded. The way he’s pulling closer to Johnny, his sharp little ankle hooking around the back of Johnny’s knee. Like the pain is wearing off and being replaced with pleasure.

Johnny realizes, as Daniel opens his mouth and chokes on a sob and comes, across his chest and Johnny’s hand, his cock twitching against Johnny’s palm as he strokes him through the orgasm, that this is the first time he’s ever touched another dick.

It only takes a few more thrusts before Johnny buries himself in Daniel and comes, pressing his face into Daniel’s shoulder to bury his groans. Daniel smells like sweat and blood and come and Johnny wants to lick him.

He’s pretty sure that’s pretty fucking gay.

“Get cleaned up,” Kreese says, without any emotion or inflection, and Johnny blinks. He’d almost forgotten where they are. He pulls out, wincing as Daniel makes a pained face, and looks worriedly for blood. There’s a little bit leaking down Daniel’s inner thigh, along with Johnny’s come leaking out of him. The sight almost makes him want to go again, or do something truly stupid like press his fingers inside Daniel or eat him out until he screams for a good reason.

The door of the dojo closes, and they’re alone. Daniel sits up, shaking, and tries to get to his feet and falls over again. Johnny suddenly remembers his injured knee. He’d tried not to touch it during, and it’s swollen and red and angry-looking.

“Do you need help?” Johnny asks. “Your knee.”

Daniel looks down at it, blank-faced, and says, “I’m fine.” He limps over to the closest wall and holds on, following it to the changing rooms. Johnny follows, grabbing their gis off the floor as an afterthought. Daniel hasn’t bothered to cover himself at all.

The showers are at the far end of the changeroom, which is normally fine, but feels almost cruel as Johnny follows Daniel’s slow inching towards it. He turns on a shower and holds himself against the wall with one hand, soaping himself up with the other, avoiding his knee completely.

He’s also avoiding his ass. Johnny feels a hideous stab of guilt, again.

Johnny takes a shower a couple over from the one Daniel is using, watching him out of the corner of his eye as he soaps himself down. No blood to wash off his cock, this time. Just some dried-on splatters on his arms. Some on his face, from Daniel giving him a nosebleed a few rounds earlier. He’d been pissed, in the moment.

He’s not upset now. It seems reasonable payback.

He doesn’t offer Daniel his help or any sympathy, just keeps watching him in case he falls over and brains his head on the tile. When he’s done — when he feels able to walk out of the showers without throwing up out of guilt or shame — he turns off his shower and heads to the back wall, grabbing his towel. A moment later, Daniel’s shower shuts off too, and he hears a limping walk up behind him as Daniel grabs his own towel.

Neither of them talk as they get dressed. In the grimy mirror in the corner, Johnny can see the bruises up and down his own body, and Daniel’s, too. They’ve both been damaged, but it was worse for Daniel. And Johnny did that to him. It’s not forgivable. Not ever.

Daniel doesn’t sit down when he’s done. He goes to sit down to do up his sneakers, and stops, the blood draining out of his face, as he sets his weight down. He stands back up quickly, and makes eye contact with Johnny as he does. Johnny has no idea what his face is doing, but it’s definitely not good.

Daniel just looks at him for a long moment, neutral, and leans against one of the lockers to do up his sneakers. Johnny has no idea what he’s thinking, and it’s absolutely terrifying.

He lets Daniel go before him out of the locker room, and shuts down the lights. He’s usually the one doing this at night. He stays late, works hard, lets Kreese push him until he collapses or his arms give out. And when Kreese leaves, he keeps going. More pushups. More punching. More crunches, more pullups, until he can barely move and everything hurts and all he can do is hope that he’ll be strong enough tomorrow.

At the front door, Daniel stops suddenly with one hand on the handle. “It’s two in the morning?” he says, softly, and Johnny glances up at the wall clock, still ticking. It’s inching past two-fifteen. Johnny’s seen that clock at four in the morning more times than he can count.

“It’s a long day. Always is,” Johnny says, clipped, and Daniel pushes the door open, accepting his statement. Or just filing it away for later. Outside, Johnny goes around back to his car, and Daniel follows him.

Johnny’s about to get in his car and try to forget this ever happened when he sees it.

The bike. Daniel biked here.

_Fuck._

From the look on Daniel’s face, he’d been trying not to think about it, but is intent on doing it anyway. Slowly, he swings one leg over, and sits on the seat. Jumps his ass up immediately, hands on the handlebars twisting like he’s imagining wringing Johnny’s neck to make himself feel better.

Johnny knows Daniel doesn’t want his help, that the best thing he could do is try to leave Daniel’s life forever, but — fuck. He can’t.

“I can drive you,” Johnny says, and Daniel looks at him, disbelieving. “I mean,” he says, and stalls out. What the hell is he thinking? Daniel’s not going to want to sit next to him in a car. Or ever be near him again. That bridge has burned beyond repair.

“Can my bike fit in the back?” Daniel asks.

It’s so unexpected that Johnny almost doesn’t answer, just stares at him. Daniel raises his brows, a silent _well, dude?_ and Johnny nods.

“Yeah — yeah, come around the back.” He has his own parking spot near the front — not officially, but no one else ever takes it. He’s grateful, as he unlocks the car and opens the trunk, that he drove instead of taking his motorcycle today.

It takes a bit of maneuvering to get the bike in, but they manage it together, and Johnny closes the back again before going around to the front and getting in. Daniel follows a moment later, and lowers himself slowly onto the seat, white-knuckled against the car door. He doesn’t speak, just breathes out hard between clenched teeth as he settles his body down in the seat.

Johnny bites his tongue before he asks if Daniel is feeling okay or something unbelievably stupid like that. He turns on the car, and asks, “Where do you live?”

Daniel gives him directions, his head against the door and his eyes slipping shut, and Johnny follows. He can feel the same exhaustion pulling at him, but the need to focus on the road is keeping it at bay for now. He’ll be sleeping for twelve hours or so once he gets home, though.

“Pull in here,” Daniel says after a bit, and Johnny does. It’s a shitty little apartment complex, and under normal circumstances he’d probably make fun of it at least a little bit. Not right now. He gets out and helps Daniel with his bike. Once it’s out and he’s closed up the car, Daniel says, “Thank you.”

It’s unexpected. Johnny doesn’t think he deserves it. Not even a little bit.

“Yeah,” he says. He can’t look at Daniel when he says it. “See you Monday.”

Once he’s back in the driver’s seat, he watches Daniel walk away, locking up his bike and then walking slowly up the stairs to his apartment. He can’t look away. The feeling in his stomach is a toxic, painful mix of painful guilt and a desperate desire to be close to Daniel again, somehow. To make sure Daniel is okay.

When Daniel opens the door of his apartment, he turns and looks down, and even though Johnny doesn’t think Daniel can see him from this far away, he looks away anyway with a spike of guilt. His car has been running the whole time.

He drives away, and he doesn’t let himself think.

☽☾

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 2, In Which Things Actually Do Get Better, coming at some unspecified future time!


End file.
